Disclaimer: I do not own the His Dark Materials Series.
A/N: I'm back and hopefully updating more regularly during NaNoWriMo and the amazing airing of the His Dark Materials series on…er, BBC, for y'all in the UK? I have to watch it a day later in the US on HBO :D
I was going back through this story trying to piece together plot points and overall directions. I'll admit that it's difficult to keep track of every thought and direction over the past 7 (!) years of writing this story, but I'm trying to pull it together now and hope that we can all follow along and enjoy the journey, however bumpy or stretched it may be.
Thanks so much for reading! :)
Luxurious Lies
42.
Chameleon Cloaks
It was the most incredible thing Lord Asriel had seen—and by incredible, he meant novel and cutting-edge while simultaneously horrendous.
He gazed curiously at the long, steel chamber before him, with a striking silver blade at the inner chamber and a series of operating switches at the command center. It was cold in the room. Even Stelmaria felt her fur bristle at the overall feel. It was cold in a way that transcended the actual frigid air of the North; it was cold in only the way the Magisterium and Mrs. Coulter and the people who slaughtered children from their daemons could possibly be cold.
"So, this is where they do it," Stelmaria grumbled, pacing around the room.
"Yes. This is the mesh chamber, just here." Lord Asriel pointed to a screen that separated two parts of the inner chamber—the screen that once separated Lyra from Pantalaimon before Mrs. Coulter wrenched it open herself to prevent that final act of severance. Although, of course Lord Asriel didn't know that because of course he never asked Marisa or Lyra what exactly had happened to them at Bolvangar, and why exactly they were both so keen and so desperate to leave the North.
As horrid as this daemon-splitting machine was, Lord Asriel had to admire the science behind it. He was first and foremost a researcher, after all, and his work would eventually lead him down a dark and dangerous path where he too would have to harness the power of separating a child from their daemon. Or so his calculations predict, at any rate. That was yet another parallel to the wicked Church that Lord Asriel pretended not to see. He was developing a machine for it, but his machine required immense power already, such as that of the Northern Lights themselves near the crossings of multiple worlds. This machine, however, operated purely through an anbaric charge, like any other device in this mundane world of theirs.
How did they do it? Who did the Magisterium pay to design and create such advancements? What knowledge did they have that Lord Asriel didn't?
She's coming. Stelmaria let out a warning growl and the hair on her neck stood up. Lord Asriel looked to the door to see Serafina enter the room, her dark eyes watching his carefully before also turning to the chamber device.
"So, you've found it, then, I see," she drawled, moving to circle the nearest steel cage in the room. "It's horrible what they've done, have been doing. With no one there to stop them."
Yes, not even you, Stelmaria thought, and it took quite some concentrated effort for Lord Asriel not to snort or chuckle out loud.
"How do we know they haven't taken the blueprints and made another somewhere else?"
"We don't." Serafina's voice was quiet and low—almost sounding bored. "It's impossible to tell exactly what they are doing, and when their next move will be. But we have a mission to accomplish here, Asriel."
A mission, she said. A mission ordained by…who, exactly? Witches don't bow to the Magisterium or believe in a higher heavenly order in the same way that humans do. They have their own ways and their own beliefs, as foreign to Lord Asriel as the Magisterium is to Serafina. Still, there had to be someone calling the shots and making her persist in the way she was so relentlessly persisting. Dr. Lanselius? Another witch? Someone else entirely?
It's futile to argue with her, Stelmaria practically hissed at him, now back at his feet as she narrowed her eyes up at the witch. She's deranged. Utterly deranged and pathetic and—
"We begin here," Serafina finally said, as though knowing exactly what Stelmaria was thinking.
"Where," Lord Asriel simply sighed, leaning against the wall.
"By harnessing the force that you so desperately seek." Her eyes were glued to his as he stopped, whipping over to gawk at her. "I know what it is you wish and need to do, Asriel, and I'm pleased to say I played my part well to get you here and to keep everyone—including Dr. Lanselius—off your tracks. Are you ready to cut into the portal of another world?"
Lord Asriel was speechless. He felt numb as he simply stood there and stared at her. For the first time in a very long time, he sincerely could not utter a single word as his brain worked at top speed to process what had just tumbled out of the witch's mouth, and what it meant, and how she knew. Stelmaria also stared over at the witch blankly, her mouth parted open.
Lord Asriel hadn't told anyone about his exact plans. Not even Thorold. It was dangerous to spread too much information that was so vulnerable and so precarious. This was actually the reason why he'd sworn himself to secrecy, why he'd went it alone all these years and these past several months in particular, why Marisa could absolutely not learn of the truth and details behind his work.
Did Serafina… Was she…
"What are you waiting for?" Serafina's voice was impatient now as she glanced from Lord Asriel to the machine and then back again. "Here you are. Now get to work."
"How long?" Lord Asriel was finally able to get out as Serafina turned to leave. "How long have you known? How long have you been helping me?"
She merely continued to stare at him, the very ghost of a grin flickering momentarily across her face before turning her back and walking away from him.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
As Lyra picked her way across Oxford, taking care to walk on the very edge of the sidewalk surrounded by trees and covered by her heavy cloak, she heard Mrs. Coulter's words from so very long ago back at Jordan ring through her mind:
Of course the Gobblers are in London. Oxford's too small. In London, children can just...disappear. In Oxford, there's nowhere to hide.
In Oxford, there's nowhere to hide...Yet there Lyra was, very much in Oxford and very much hiding. Pan nibbled at her elbow in his most sneaky mouse form as she continued to move in front of her toward both familiar and strange.
The alethiometer wouldn't lead us here if it wasn't safe, she tried to assure herself. Pan felt her pangs of doubt, however. Right? It said to go back to Jordan. It said that things will sort themselves out. It must be safe!
That's not the same as saying we're safe, Lyra. Lyra stopped just then at that, her boots coming to a full stop as she let her daemon's words sink through her. Did you actually ask it if you would be safe? Was that one of the questions you asked?
It wasn't. Lyra realized now that her own safety hadn't actually been a question she'd asked the alethiometer in the past couple of months. She always asked about the missing children, about the Gyptians, about Lord Asriel, about even Mrs. Coulter...but not necessarily about herself.
Had she been acting like a fool? Had she been taken as a fool?
Not now, Lyra.
Pan knew what Lyra wanted to do, and Lyra knew that he wouldn't let her do it. If she had it her way, she'd whip out the alethiometer right here and now to settle this once and for all. She's ask it every specific question she could think of demand precise answers. It had been acting quite flippant and estranged from her lately, as though only reluctantly answering her intense questions in its convoluted and dense way. She could understand that she'd been asking a lot from it these days, and that these were troubling times and perhaps there were some truths that Lyra wasn't able to entirely know and see just yet. But it still didn't sit right with her.
It was almost as if she were reaching the very threshold and limit of her ability to read the alethiometer, and that it was trying its best to gently tell her that some things she simply had to do on her own.
So, she kept walking, patting her pocket once before crossing her arms in front of her. She walked outside of the reach of the streetlights. She averted her gaze whenever someone passed her by. Lyra kept going, brisk and purposeful and sure of herself and a future that she was starting to realize she may not fully be able to control.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o
They would be alright. Not at first or during, but they would end up alright.
Serafina sighed, laying down in one of the four poster beds in one of the children's dormitories. Kaisa had found his way back to her and snuggled against her breast, feeling the beat of her heart and syncing his to its slow and steady rhythm.
It's been a long time, he thought to her as he got as close as he could possibly get to her, loving every inch of her again and again until they finally felt unified and complete and at peace.
It needed to be done. She ran her long fingers through his gray-flecked feathers. It always marveled her how soft they were. He was so fierce and the North was so bitter and so ruthless, but his feathers always remained so soft. He remained resistant to being hardened.
"It went well," she said out loud now, feeling stronger after time alone to be and exist with her daemon. "I think everyone is confused."
"They are, my dear. You did brilliantly."
She had. At over 300 years old, Serafina had a lot of experience in the ways of the world and in the ways of deceiving humans. She didn't like to do it often, but sometimes it was necessary—vital for survival, even. For everyone's survival.
She wasn't really experiencing witch's scorn with Lord Asriel. The truth is that she hardly remembered their time together (whenever it even was, for the years are long and Lord Asriel but a mere blip in time) and she was perfectly in control and in sense of herself. Now, she did hate the Coulter woman for reasons she couldn't audibly explain, but this was all for a greater plan and a greater purpose. Greater than anything that had to do with any of them individually.
The witches hear whispers between worlds as they fly high in the sky and through the upper atmosphere. Some of it means nothing, but some of it holds more merit and means something to more than one world. Lyra and Lord Asriel were involved in one of such important whispers with a greater purpose and a greater meaning. Arguably the most greater purpose and greater meaning. It was that for which Serafina would risk her stature, her reputation, and her own safety to help them accomplish what it is they needed to accomplish.
"We've done the best we could," Kasia soothed against her, his eyes drooping as Serafina's eyes also started to weigh down on her. "Now, we wait. And we fight when we have to."